Puppet Master
by BanditKing
Summary: While boarding the Hogwarts Express, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy are abducted by a person called the Puppet Master. Hidden away in a dilapidated manor, they become puppets, desperately trying to stay alive as they search for an escape.
1. Chapter 1

Hey, I'm still working on 'Letters' but I've decided to start this story as well.

Let me know what you think, I _love_ comments.

Bandit XX

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter

Obviously

 **Chapter One**

Hermione Granger searched for her friends, pulling her trunk along behind her, struggling to make her way down the busy platform. Her hair had been pulled back into a loose ponytail, but it was starting to fall apart, curls framing her face as she struggled to pull her jumper tighter and keep a hold of her trolley and wand in the other hand.

The Hogwarts Express was going to leave any minute and she was still trying to make it through crowds of parents waving and shouting at their children through open windows. Her own parents were on a vacation to France; she'd insisted that they hadn't needed to see her off, but now she'd wished she'd taken up the Weasley's offer to stay with them the week before school started.

She saw a bright, ginger head bob in the distance. "Ron!" She called, hoping he'd hear her. He didn't, hoisting his trunk aboard, turning to say something to someone hidden in the crowd. He disappeared into the train. Familiar black hair and spectacles were next as Harry dragged his trunk up behind him. "Harry!" She shouted.

Her best friend rubbed his scar, looking around, eyes passing right over her as if he was looking for something. Seeming uneasy, he turned and entered the train after Ron. She growled in frustration. She was knocked into by an over enthusiastic parent, so she pulled herself back towards the wall to make her way around the crowd. Her trolley was ridiculously heavy from all of the books in her trunk, and she gave it a forceful push. It slipped from her hands and hit the brick wall.

"Need help, Granger?"

She glanced over her shoulder to see Malfoy smirking down at her, wearing trousers and a white oxford shirt without a tie, unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled to his elbows. One summer later and Malfoy went from being a scrawny boy, to a tall man. His hands were stuffed into his pockets and he had one silvery eyebrow raised at her.

"Are you offering?" She scoffed.

He pulled out his wand and shrunk her trunk. He picked it up and grabbed her hand before he could stop her. He dropped it into her hand.

"We're not supposed to practice magic outside of school, Malfoy," she hissed, shoving her shrunken trunk into her pocket. He just stared down at her in amusement, lips twisted into his usual smirk.

"Live a little, Granger," he said.

She sniffed disdainfully. "I have to get on the train."

Malfoy's eyes went wide. He whipped his wand up into a defensive position and hissed to her, "Granger someone's approaching us and they are _not_ friendly."

"How could you possibly know…" She turned to see a person in a black cloak striding from the shadows towards them. They were wearing a white mask, covering his entire face, the lips a flat line, the eyes just wide enough to reveal dark holes in the distance.

She pulled out her wand, all thoughts of regulation and laws gone. Malfoy cast a stunning spell and the figure deflected it with a snap of their wrist, black cloak floating in the air. Hermione shot a spell of her own, something she'd read about last year. Black ribbons appearing in the air, flying towards the figure. The ribbons were supposed to wrap around a person, tying them up like a mummy. The figure deflected this as well, the ribbons smoking and with a slash of their wand, a jet of blue light flew towards Hermione and Malfoy. They both tried to deflect it but were not quick enough and it hit the pair of them.

The students collapsed and the man moved forward, pulling a portkey from inside his robes. No one saw them disappear.

…

Hermione woke in a dark room. There were large windows to her left, moonlight pouring into the room. She sat up. She was sitting on a bed and there was a giant stack of dark green pillows stacked behind her that matched the comforter. Heavy drapes hung around the bed. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and looked around. Across from her there was a giant stone fireplace. The room was freezing.

A voice came from the corner of the room, "it's good to see you awake my dear."

Hermione spun to see a man sitting in a chair, leaning forward, his ghostly white mask totally disguising his features. The hood of his cloak hid his hair, casting his mask in shadow, the hollows and dark eyes terrifying in the low light.

"Where am I?" Her voice was surprisingly strong.

"Your home."

Her bottom lip wobbled, but she refused to cry. She took a deep breath to keep herself calm. "Why am I here?"

"You're mine," the voice was soft and chilling.

"Where's Malfoy?" She looked around, remembering that he'd been with her. Had he been taken as well? Had he been killed? She swallowed, then said, voice cracking with fear, "he was the boy with me."

The man stood, "my other puppet is still sleeping."

" _Puppet_?"

"You are my puppets," he started to walk towards the door. "Put on the dress in the closet, dearest. I will return for you. I must wake my other dear one." He opened the heavy mahogany door, but paused, then turned towards her. The left side of his mask caught the beam of moonlight, "welcome to your new home."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is not mine.

Chapter Two

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, wearing the dark green velvet dress, staring out the window, thoughts working furiously. The forest surrounding the manor was thick and dark. No other homes or buildings in sight.

She'd put on the dress out of terror. Hermione Granger was intelligent and knew that in her current situation it would be best to see what the man had planned for her. Attacking him at this moment was not a logical plan. She had no idea what he was capable of _and_ he had a wand. Should he have a violent temper and a talent for spells…. She would worry about that later.

She tugged on the sleeve of the dress. It was simple, long sleeved and shaped to form her body, tight and cut at her knees. A tear fell from her cheek and hit her skirt, leaving a dark spot on the material. There was a lump in throat from holding back sobs. She wasn't fragile, but she wasn't stupid either, and she understood the weight of her situation. She'd been taken. Malfoy was somewhere in the house, and they were going to escape together.

The door opened and the cloaked man strode in, Malfoy walking behind him. Hermione stood quickly, eyes going immediately to the blonde. There was something… off about him. His eyes were glossy and there was a bright mark across his high cheekbone that she was sure would soon bruise. His steps were mechanical. He stopped behind their captor and stared blankly at the wall. Hermione swallowed the fear in her throat. Malfoy was under the imperious.

"Your companion has decided to not be cooperative," the masked man said, then lifted a black gloved hand to train a finger along Malfoy's strong jawline. The blonde did not flinch. It was as if he really was a puppet, an empty shell for this man's use.

Hermione stayed silent.

"Are you going to cause me the same problems, my pet?"

She didn't speak, eyes still on Malfoy's empty gray eyes. Her bottom lip wobbled with the effort to keep from crying.

"You _will_ answer me," the man's voice was icy.

"Sir," she started in the tone she reserved for Professor Snape, part disdain, part politeness, "I don't know what you want from me, but an explanation-"

The man flicked his wand and she screamed as her cheek sliced open. The cut was shallow but it stung, a thin line of blood trailing down the side of her jaw like a tear. She rose a shaky hand to touch it. "It would be wise on your part not to question me, Pet," the man cackled. It was terrifying to see the blank face of the mask paired with the manic laughter that came from beneath it. He took three steps and was suddenly in front of Hermione, raising that black gloved hand to her cheek. "So lovely," he whispered in a childlike voice, "you are perfect for me, pet. Lovely and young, the perfect match for my other puppet."

His fingers stroked her skin and she was too terrified to move. She almost collapsed with relief when he dropped his hand to turn towards Malfoy. "Darling one," he said in a voice like the velvet Hermione wore, "come meet your match."

Malfoy walked forward in that stiff, controlled way, coming to stand in front of Hermione. The imperious faded from his eyes slowly until he was staring in confusion at Hermione's tear stained face. "Granger?" His voice was hoarse. He saw the man standing next to him and he stepped back, a mix of fury and fear flying across his features. "You sick fuck-"

The man's wand swished through the air and Malfoy's head snapped to the side as if he'd been punched, his hair whipping over his cheek. "Now now," he tutted. "Is that any way to talk in front of your lady?"

"What the fuck are you on about?" Malfoy hissed angrily.

Another flick of his wand and Malfoy and a cut like Hermione's appeared. Blood ran down Malfoy's cheek but the hate never left his eyes as it dripped off his chin onto his crisp white shirt.

"Now," the man said, trailing his wand along the edge of his mask, "the pair of you, stand side by side, I want to get a look at my pets. Do as I say or I will _make_ you."

Hermione stepped so that she was lined side by side with Malfoy and grabbed his hand. He let her interlace their fingers, raising his chin, the blood sliding down his face. Hermione faced their captor.

"So brave," the man took his seat in the corner of the room, "and so pretty. The perfect match. I will have such fun with you."

Hermione Granger had never expected to cling to Malfoy for strength, but she did at that moment, fingers tight around his, his side pressed tightly against hers.

"Now," the man let out a childish laugh. "My darling, kiss her."

A muscle in Malfoy's jaw throbbed. "You're sick, you know that?" Malfoy sounded like he was losing it, "you're just some depraved psychopath. Fuck you."

The man shot straight up in his chair. "Do it or I'll make you do _worse_ ," he barked, "do you hear me, darling? Now, _kiss her_."

"I'm not going to-" Malfoy started, but at a tug on his hand, stopped. Hermione was staring up at him, her lips pressed into a determined line. She gave him a nod. Exhaling heavily through his nose, he turned and pecked her on the mouth.

"I think he can do better than that, what do you say, pet?" The man's voice was coaxing. He seemed to realize he could control Hermione much better. What he didn't know was that she was slowly plotting her escape. And she would. She would escape.

"Kiss him, pet. Let's see you do better."

Hermione licked her lips in humiliation and turned to Malfoy. He was watching her with a steely gaze. Standing on her toes, she pressed her lips to his, letting them stay for a long moment, catching his bottom lip between hers. Malfoy was stiff, but his arm came around her waist to steady her, his hand squeezing her side for comfort.

"Enough," the man now sounded bored. "Come. We have people to meet."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is not mine...

Let me know what you think darlings!

Bandit XX

 **Chapter Three**

The man led them down a hallway, oak doors lining the wall, all closed tightly. She hadn't released Malfoy's hand and to her surprise he didn't complain, his fingers clutching hers just as tightly. She hadn't noticed before but he wore a tailored suit. Their captor had dressed them up for something and Hermione wasn't sure that she wanted to know what he had planned.

"Granger," Malfoy hissed under his breath. She glanced at the man that was a few paces ahead of them, his cloak dragging on the floor behind him. He didn't show any sign that he'd noticed Malfoy speak, so she turned back to him, nodding for him to continue. "We need to do something."

She shot him a disbelieving look. "Well _obviously_."

The man turned to glance at them and they both stiffened, hurrying forward. They remained silent as they turned the corner and he led them down a beautiful spiral staircase. It was falling apart but the beautiful carvings in the wood had yet to fade and the iron rails curled up from the floor like ivy. The floor was filthy, a few broken windows next to the enormous entry way allowing the runaway branches to grow into the mansion, leaves falling and littering the floor.

Hermione didn't miss how Malfoy eyed the double oak doors that they passed. She was relieved he didn't run for them; their captor had already shown he had no problems with violence. Their bloody cheeks were evidence of that.

They entered a dark room, the light behind them illuminating the auditorium, the plush seats filled with people. The light barely illuminating the backs of their heads. Hermione could see something was wrong even before the light flew from their captor's wand and set the candles lining the walls aflame.

The light flickered off of the dummies heads. The seats had been filled with wooden puppets, deatheater masks painted carefully onto each and every face. Hermione and Malfoy gaped in horror. Hermione had been hoping when the man had said he was going going to introduce them to someone he'd meant a _real life person_. This was so much worse than she'd imagined.

"What is this?" Malfoy asked hoarsely, his cheek a light purple in the flickering light.

"Your audience!" The man cackled happily from beneath his mask, "They used to perform themselves, but they could never do what the pair of you can do!"

Malfoy's face was shockingly pale in the light as his gray eyes scanned the 'audience'. "What do you mean, perform?"

"You puppets will perform in the greatest love story ever written!" He clapped his gloved hands together, the movement making no sound, " _Romeo and Juliet_!"

"You've brought us here to perform? In a muggle play?" Malfoy gaped at the masked man.

The man sniffed. "Yes. And you _will_ do a good job. We wouldn't want to disappoint our audience," he fondly stroked one of the dummy's heads.

Hermione glanced around at the the rows and rows of deatheater puppets. "And when we're done? You're going to let us go?"

The pale face tilted to the side, "your souls will be free, Juliet. Fear not."

The words sent a chill up her spine. Something was wrong with what he'd said. Malfoy obviously sensed it too, his blonde brow furrowing, fingers tightening once more around hers. He glanced around the auditorium.

"Now," the man tapped his wand against the against the chin of his mask, "we must return you to your rooms! Your meals will be waiting for you there." He turned to walk from the room, the candles going out as he passed, plunging the room into darkness. Hermione hurried forward, pulling Malfoy along behind her. He resisted for a moment, examining the theater. The stage was framed by red velvet curtains, the wood framing the stage ornately carved, thick with dust.

"Malfoy," she hissed, "come on." She didn't want the man to notice that they'd fallen behind, and the further he walked, the worse it would get. "We'll figure this out later," she tugged once more.

He followed her, and they hurried out of the darkened theater and into the entry, the moonlight filtering in through the windows. The climbed the stairs after the man. Their captor glided ahead of them, his black cloak dragging upon the ground, eerie humming floating from beneath his mask.

"I'm going to try to break into your room tonight," Malfoy whispered, "we can try to find a way out together."

She kept her eyes on the man as she nodded. They were led back the way they came, candles lighting as the man walked past, the hallway glowing eerily around him. Hermione's eyes found her door, and moved on. There were at least three other doors past hers, then the hallway turned sharply to the left.

"Do you remember which is yours?"

He frowned in confusion as he looked down the hall. Realizing what she was asking, he shook his head, then said, "imperious."

Her mouth pressed into a grim line.

The man flicked his wand at Hermione's door and it flew open. "Go pet, your meal is inside."

"Sir," Hermione began, voice cracking slightly, "would you mind if Malfoy and I ate together?"

The man's face tilted to the side, dark eyes examining the pair of them, madness crackling in the irises. "In your bedroom?"

"Well, yes," Hermione was hoping that if she remained calm, the man would as well, "I just don't want to be alone."

"Do not worry about that," the man sounded as if he was smiling beneath the mask, "I will join you tonight. My dear Romeo will take his dinner in the room next door. Alone."

His words sent a chill over Hermione. She was going to have to spend time with him without Malofy there? She'd hated him in school, but now she knew he was an ally, and she did _not_ want him to leave.

"Over my dead body," Malfoy snarled, surprising her, "Listen, we'll perform in your ridiculous play, but Granger and I are staying together. We're your 'set' right? So we're staying together."

The man stepped towards them, raising his wand menacingly, his mask pale in the glowing light. Hermione and Malfoy both braced themselves for the worst. "Cruci-" he began, then stopped short.

He cackled. "Very well," he said, "the pair of you may stay together. But I'm warning you," he stepped towards Malfoy, resting the tip of his wand against his chin. Malfoy- to her surprise- did not flinch. It was then, watching them standing toe to toe, Hermione realized that Malfoy was at least three inches taller than him, and a great deal more muscular. Without the advantage of the wand, Malfoy would've had the upper hand. The man continued, "if you continue to cause problems for me, you will be punished or worse; you'll spend a night in the dungeon."

Malfoy stared down at the man, a muscle in his jaw twitching with repressed anger. "Understood," he grated.

The man stepped back suddenly, waving his wand about with a childlike giggle. "Wonderful." He turned to Hermione, "You have been delightful, pet. I believe I shall send you a present for your obedience."

Hermione was lucky the man did not notice the hate in her eyes. She held back every angry, blistering word and forced a smile on her face, and nodded. The man ushered them into the room and with a wave of his wand, the door slammed shut.

Hermione rushed forward and pressed her ear against the door, listening. There was a long pause, and then she could hear the man start to hum as he walked away.

"Granger," Malfoy grabbed her by the shoulders and whirled her to face him. She pressed her hand against his chest and shoved him away from her, breaking his grip on her shoulders.

"Don't," she held up a hand, " _please_ don't touch me. Not right now."

He ran a hand through his blonde hair, making it stand up in messy waves as he let out a harsh breath. He looked so different from the year before; he'd stopped slicking his hair back from his face and the messy white hair framing his face made him strikingly better looking. "We need to get out of here. _Now_ Granger, before that lunatic comes back."

"I agree," she walked towards the bed and sat on the edge, dropping her face into her hands. "But we need a plan."

"So come up with one!" He demanded. "Everyone talks about how you're the brightest witch of our age, so prove it!"

She lifted her head to glare at him. "If you want a plan so bad, why don't _you_ come up with one?"

He didn't answer her, instead striding towards the windows. He peered outside. "No buildings in sight," he leaned closer to the glass, "There's no ledge for us to climb out on. We could attempt to lull the man into a false sense of security and attack…"

"What do you think I've been doing?" She snapped.

Realization slid across his face, "so that's why you've been so bloody compliant!"

"Exactly."

Malfoy went to speak but two plates appeared upon a small table in the corner of the room. "I suppose that's our dinner," he scowled accusingly at the food. Hermione stood and walked to the table, standing next to him with her arms folded. Each plate held a healthy portion of pasta, the smell wafting up from the steaming plates, causing Hermione's stomach to growl. Loudly.

She grabbed a plate and went to sit on the floor near the window. Malfoy did the same, scowling at his food the entire walk to join her. She stared blankly at the wall as she chewed, the food filling the pit in her stomach.

"Tell me," he said once he'd finished chewing, "what is this play we're supposed to perform."

She swallowed her bite of pasta. "It's Shakespeare. The world's most famous playwright. Romeo and Juliet is about a two teenagers who become infatuated with each other. Their 'love'- if you can call it that- is impossible. Their families hate each other, so they have to marry secretly. The play ends with them killing themselves."

"What a piss poor ending," he took another heaping mouthful of pasta.

"Agreed."

Malfoy's eyes wandered the room as he ate his food. "Where do you suppose we are?"

"I have no idea," she twisted her fork in her food, "but I believe we're totally isolated."

He nodded in agreement. "Do you think we were chosen randomly or that the fucker has been following us?"

"Considering the play?" She poked at her food, "it's possible that he chose us because of our backgrounds. We're both rather famous in the wizarding world, we come from houses that are known to hate each other, separate cultures. But he could've just seen the pair of us at Kings Crossing and picked us in the moment."

"Either way," Malfoy stabbed viciously into his food, white hair glowing in the beam of moonlight shining from the window, "I'm going to kill him for this."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Granger, wake up."

Hermione lifted her head, blinking groggily. Malfoy sat next to her on the floor, his lips pressed into a frown, staring at something in the corner of the room. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, yawning loudly, looking to see what Malfoy was staring at. On a table pressed against the wall, was a large box wrapped in silver paper. There was a dark blue ribbon tied into a perfect bow atop it.

"I think that's your present," Malfoy said.

Hermione pressed her back against the wall, the pane of the window digging into her neck. "I'm not going to open it."

Malfoy's gray eyes flashed with surprise. "Why not?"

"I have no idea what it is," she stared blankly at it, "therefore I'm not willing to take the risk."

After a long pause, Malfoy said, "fine." She thought the conversation was over with, but Malfoy was pushing to his feet and striding towards the table, a look of determination on his face.

"Malfoy," Hermione said, "what're you doing?"

"I'm opening this package."

She pushed to her feet, "Malfoy, don't."

"I want to know what he's sending you."

She stopped just behind him, peering over his shoulder as he began to untie the ribbon. "Malfoy, what if it's dangerous."

"He wants us to perform in his play, remember? Whatever it is, it won't do any lasting damage."

Hermione watched as he pulled the ribbon away and began to tear at the paper. A large white box was revealed. Malfoy brushed the paper away and stopped just as he was about to lift the lid. He turned to Hermione. "I don't have to open it if you don't want to."

His thoughtfulness was uncharacteristic and it surprised Hermione so much she stared at him blankly for a long moment. "Open it," she said.

Malfoy lifted the lid and set it on the ground. Inside, wrapped in crinkly tissue paper, was a red dress. Velvet, like the one she'd slept in, sleeveless and so low cut it made her blush just to think about wearing it.

"He's sending us costumes now," Malfoy said bitterly, "what next?"

Hermione stared down at the dress, tugging on one of her frizzy curls, thinking. "Malfoy," she said, "do you know the time?"

His eyes immediately went to his empty wrist. He frowned, "son of a bitch stole my watch," he muttered before looking around the room. "Sorry Granger, I don't think we're privy to that information."

"How long do you think we've been here?"

"A day, at least," he frowned, "where are you going with this, Granger?"

"How long do you think it'll take them to send someone after us?" She lifted the dress carefully from the box, the fabric unfolding slowly. "A day?"

Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair, "I suppose the minute we didn't arrive at Hogwarts. Pothead and Weasel are sure to have missed you."

"Don't call them that."

"And why not?" He drawled, turning to walk towards the bed. He fell onto the end of it, forearms resting along his thighs as he stared at her, "it's not as if we're mates. I'm sure they've said worse about me," he sneered. "Self righteous, every last one of you."

"You've given them plenty of reason to!" Hermione shot back. "You've given _me_ plenty of reason to! Your derogatory name calling _alone_ -"

"Get over it, Granger," he sneered.

She wanted to wipe that smug expression off of his face with her fist. Anger twisting in her stomach, she snapped hatefully, "Of all people, why did I have to end up here with _you_."

"Believe me, Granger, you are the last person I want to be stuck with."

Hermione glowered at him, but not wanting to continue the arguing she instead focused her attention on the dress in her hands. She pulled it from the box and a card hidden within the folds of fabric. Malfoy was there in an instant, plucking the card from the ground before Hermione was able. She caught a glimpse of showy black script on the creamy card. "What does it say."

" _For my Juliet,_ " Malfoy read, " _A pretty dress for a pretty doll_. _Rehearsals begin today._ "

"That's all it says?"

Malfoy handed her the card. "You going to change now?" His eyes slithered down her body. His moods were jumping too quickly for Hermione; he was probably just trying to make her uncomfortable. Hermione pulled the dress towards herself, cheeks flushing.

" _No_ ," her voice was clipped. He smirked at her, white locks falling into his silver eyes, pleased with himself.

"Have you got anything better to do than leer at me?" she snapped.

"I have nothing but time," he said in a dark tone.

She tossed the dress towards the box. It ended draped over the table in a rumpled heap. Malfoy raised a silver eyebrow. "That'll wrinkle."

"As if I care," she came to a stop in front of him, "we need to figure a way out of here."

He raised his eyes to her face. "Obviously," he drawled. "Now the real question is," he leaned backwards, "have you got any ideas."

"Not at present," she turned towards the window, "but we need one as soon as possible. Can you do any wandless magic?"

"Never possessed the ability," Malfoy's head tilted to the side as he appraised her, "but I'm sure that you do."

Hermione folded her arms, the velvet stretching across her shoulders. "I haven't had much luck with it," she said, frustrated. "But I can do simple spells. Nothing useful at the moment."

"Teach me."

Her eyebrow rose, "I just told you my abilities are limited."

"And mine are nonexistent," he stood, towering over her. "So teach me. It'll give you practice and you'll have my help."

"There's a chance we'll only be able to manage simple charms."

"Something is better than nothing."

"Draco Malfoy, the optimist," Hermione mused, "words I'd thought I'd never say."

He smirked in response.

There was a clap of thunder outside the window and rain began to pelt the window. The room was dropping in temperature, as if a draft was escaping into the mansion. Hermione pulled her arms tighter around herself. Malfoy strode past her towards the window, stopping to stare out at the rain, at the overgrown lawn and surrounding trees. "Where do you think he's brought us."

"I believe we're still in England."

Malfoy made a _hmm_ noise, staring at the glass thoughtfully.

"I'm concerned about the wards."

He looked at her over his shoulder. "Do go on."

"If this mansion is unplottable, no one's going to find us," Hermione said. "But that would imply that the man that kidnapped us was intelligent."

"What is it you're suggesting we do?"

Hermione pulled her hair up off of her face, "I think we need to be cooperative."

"Like with the kiss."

Her cheeks turned pink. She cleared her throat, then said, "precisely. We have no idea what we're dealing with; this man is obviously mad, but we have no idea what lengths he's willing to go to keep us in check. He has no problem using unforgivables. We need to prevent that as much as possible."

"And in the meantime?"

"We try to go for his wand."

Malfoy frowned. "He'll be expecting that Granger."

"Of course he will," she said, "but if we are cooperative, it might make him less suspicious."

"And how do you suggest we go about it?"

The floorboards outside the door creaked as someone moved outside the room. Both froze. The knob turned slowly, the door swinging open. In the doorway stood their captor. He was wearing a different mask this time; the old doctor mask was terrifying, the beak long and curving downwards.

Malfoy whispered a soft curse from next to her, staring at the man in horror.

"Hello puppets," the man's voice crooned, muffled by the mask. "Are you ready for rehearsals?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"This play is bloody ridiculous," Malfoy hissed under his breath.

"To be fair, the creator is one of the renowned writers in history," Hermione straightened her shoulders as she glanced out through the lights shining in their faces. Nestled between two wooden puppets, was their captor. The long beak of his mask glinted in the low light.

Malfoy cleared his throat before reciting the lines they'd been doing for hours, "Thou detestable maw-"

"Not enough feeling," the masked man cackled from his seat in the audience, "you're as stiff as a board!"

Grinding his teeth, he began again, "Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death," he hesitated, then upon remembering the words, continued, "gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth-"

"More feeling!" their captors voice ran out from the dark, causing Malfoy to grind his teeth in frustration. "Your loved one has _died,_ Romeo!" the masked man stood, radiating dangerous energy, "do not disappoint me this time."

Malfoy took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them. Hatefully, he spat, " _Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth, Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, And in despite I'll cram thee with more food!"_

Hermione sucked in her cheeks, glancing at their captor. After a long moment, the man raised his hands, causing them both to stiffen. The man brought his hands together, the first clap making them both wince.

"Much better," his eyes glinted behind the mask, "continue to practice, darlings. I have business to attend to."

The pair stayed silent, eyeing the man as he strode away, kicking up dust from the carpet as he went. With a flick of his wand, the doors flew open, slamming shut behind him with an echoing thud.

Tension drained from their shoulders.

"Where do you think he's going?" Malfoy moved to the edge of the stage, letting his body fall against the wall and slide down until he was sitting. Hermione griped the faded script in her hand, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"I don't know," she said, "but I hope it's far and keeps him away for a good while. He wasn't wearing a mask…"

Malfoy guffawed. "Has the last day made you go batty? His mask was enormous."

"A _deatheater_ mask, Malfoy," she snapped, "which means he's probably not been called to a meeting."

"You don't know that."

"Fine, I'm assuming it," she snapped at him. "Do you recognize his voice?"

"Why would _I_ recognize his voice?" he asked incredulously.

Hermione tapped her foot against the wooden floor of the stage, folding her arms across her chest, "I'm working with the deatheater theory, which means you would have a much easier time recognizing the voice than I."

He glared at her. "I'll start listening more carefully," he grated.

"Do that," she snapped back.

His eyes drifted to the closed door, his pale hair falling into his face. The lights from the stage gave him a haunted look to his already ghostly features. At her silence, his eyes slid back to her face, "and so the know-it-all goes silent."

"Bugger off," she said, moving to take a seat next to him. He eyed her as if she was a vile creature, but she ignored him, letting her head fall back against the wall, her bushy hair cushioning her like a pillow.

"What're we going to do Granger?" Malfoy sighed.

She reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose, a headache forming, "we'll think of something. We just have to appear complacent until we have a plan."

"We should start practicing wandless magic," he said, "if we could manage a simple stunning charm, we could steal his wand and attempt to escape."

Hermione's eyes widened. "If we could manage that, it'd be perfect. That's brilliant."

He gave a little shrug but she saw the flush in his cheeks. "You should've thought of it," he muttered.

"You're right," she frowned, "I _should_ have."

"Well," his eyes looked to the ceiling, "teach me how to cast wandless spells. We haven't got all day, witch."

She felt her temper flare. "When I said I could do wandless magic," her voice dripped with disdain, "I meant I could do simple- and I mean _simple_ \- spells."

"What good are you then?"

"At least I can do _anything_ ," she spat.

He took a slow intake of breath, as if he was trying to control his temper. He turned to her, his voice calm. "Teach me what you _can_ do then."

And so she did.

…..

Malfoy was an excellent student, she soon realized.

He was quickly learning everything she threw at him, the first spell coming to him almost instantly. It had taken her _weeks_ to master the spell. She tried to be rational, reminding herself that while he had a teacher (and an excellent one at that) she had to learn it all on her own.

The script he'd been levitating fell to the stage and he looked at her with a boyish grin, a smile Hermione had yet to see him give.

Suddenly, Hermione felt her eyes grow heavy. Malfoy frowned at her changed expression, but continued talking. A strange warmth blossomed in her stomach as she stared at him, noticing the sharp line of his jaw, the liquid gray of his eyes, the soft pink of his lips…

"Granger?"

His voice sounded far away, but the huskiness of it still sent a shiver down her spine. Impulsively, as if she couldn't help herself, she found herself reaching for him, her hands burying in the softness of his hair, pulling his face to hers.

He let out a gasp of surprise and Hermione used it to her advantage, nipping his bottom lip with her teeth. He was frozen, unresponsive, until slowly, his hands came up to cup her face, his lips moving against hers.

She didn't know what had made her do it, but she melted into him, shivering at the feel of his hands sliding down her back and over her behind. He yanked her into his lap, groaning at the feel of her body pressing into his.

She felt his tongue brush her bottom lip and she pulled him closer, his hands squeezing her arse in response. " _Fuck_ Granger," he ground out against her lips, turning to kiss her neck, nipping at her skin.

Hermione heard a sharp clap, and it was as if her mind was clear again, and she was suddenly aware of who it was she was kissing, who's lap she had crawled into. She jerked away from him, falling backwards, head swiveling to see their captor gliding up the alley towards them, his eerie mask making her skin crawl.

"Excellent… _performance_ , Juliet," he seemed to coo at them, "the lust spell proves just how spectacular the pair of you will be when you preform."

Malfoy looked shocked, his eyes moving from their captor, to her. His white hair was sticking up from where she'd had her hands in it, his lips dark and swollen. The clapping continued as she stared at him in horror, realizing what had happened.

""I trust you will be prepared to go over your lines. We will have rehearsals in the morning," his voice grew menacing as he approached the stage, "It is time to return to your quarters."

They stared at him, both silent, their cheeks still flushed.

"Now!" he barked.

They both rushed to their feet, grabbing their scripts. She felt Malfoy grab her hand, causing her to stiffen, but once he'd intertwined his fingers with hers, she felt herself relax into the comfort of having him there, no matter how much she didn't like him.

They were led down the same hall, the three of them silent. Malfoy refused to look at her, but kept her hand gripped tightly in his. It was a relief, she realized, that he hadn't distanced himself when he'd realized she'd been charmed to kiss her. Though she couldn't quite understand why he'd continued to kiss her.

He must've been enchanted too.

"Inside," the man flicked his wand at the door, causing Hermione's thoughts to come to an abrupt halt.

Hermione walked in, Malfoy following close behind her. The man's dark eyes followed their every step, his eyes wild as they remained focussed on Hermione. He stepped towards her, causing both Hermione and Malfoy to tense as he reached a gloved hand towards her, sliding his fingers into her hair, toying with the curls. She held deathly still, feeling a wave of fear wash over her. Malfoy's hand tightened to almost a painful degree and his jaw set, eyes dark and angry as they watched the man.

"Such a shame you're such a beauty," the man's voice was pained, his eyes crazed as he twisted his fingers in her hair, "but you belong to Romeo. My lovely matched set."

Malfoy gave her a little tug, causing her to stumble backwards into him, her hair sliding free from the gloved hand. Eyes narrowed dangerously behind the mask, their captor's gloved hand squoze into a tight fist. Hermione curled into Malfoy, wanting to get as far from the other man as possible, turning her face into the blonde's chest. His arm came up to curl around her, holding her protectively.

"Sleep well, darlings," the masked man crooned before turning and striding from the room, the door slamming shut with an echoing thud.

Malfoy kept her against him for a long moment as she released a shaky breath.

"He made you do that with a lust spell, didn't he?"

Hermione nodded, feeling her chest hurt. "I didn't know what was happening until it happened," she said softly, "did he cast one on you too?"

There was a long pause. "Yes."

She moved to pull herself from him and he let his arms fall limply to his sides. She began to rub at her neck, noticing the pain for the dozenth time that day. After sitting sleeping up against the wall, she was looking forward to sleeping in the large bed, praying that the sheets would be soft and the mattress comfy.

But that left her another problem.

"How are we going to go about this?" she waved a hand at the bed.

"I didn't know you were so eager to get into bed with me, Granger." Malfoy drawled.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't suppose you fancy sleeping on the floor?" She asked sweetly.

"We're sharing the bed," he said stubbornly, "You sleep under the covers and I'll stay above them."

"But," she stared hard at the bed. He said nothing, just staring her down with his arms folded, eyebrows lowered. She sighed, turning and moving to the left side, lifting the heavy covers and shimming in. Feeling awkward, she patted the spot next to her. Malfoy rolled his eyes and climbed on top, turning his back to her. "Now who's eager to share a bed with whom?"

He rolled onto his back, tossing an arm over his eyes. "Just go to bed you bloody know-it-all."


End file.
